Understanding
by eliana-moran
Summary: You understand, so what? Why help? she asked. Because you understand, he answered.
1. Understanding

"Ginny! What the hell is this!" Ron was yelling at his sister in front of the whole school. Malfoy dropped his fork back to his plate in disgust. How could he eat with all this obnoxious ruccus?

Ginny had come storming into the Great Hall a moment before her brother, hoping the eyes of the rest of the school would be enough to shut him up, but they weren't. He was standing over her, yelling. She tried to ignore him.

He grabbed her wrist and pushed her sleeve back. "What happened?" he demanded, referring to the several red lines and countless white scars.

"None of your bloody business!" She yanked her arm free from him and stood up to leave.

Malfoy, unable to ignore the tableaux, unconsciously pulled the short sleeve of his t-shirt, making sure it was completely down.

Ron grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. "What do you mean? Of course it's my business! My sister is being mutilated!"

"Stop being so dramatic!" She bit out, trying to pull free, but he held her tight. "It's just a few scrapes!"

"A few! It looks like someone's been ruetinely..." he never got to finish his statement.

Malfoy, almost completely unaware of what he was doing, had gotten to his feet and walked over so that he was standing behind Ginny. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he pushed Ron's off. "Leave her alone. If she wanted you to know what happened she would tell you." His eyes were flasing dangerously.

Ginny tensed under his touched. What on earth? Malfoy was defending her? Suddenly it hit. From where he had been sitting, he would have been able to see her arm when Ron had pushed the sleeve back. He knew what had happened.

"GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY SISTER!" Ron shouted in Malfoy's face.

_Really stupid move, git._ Ginny thought.

Malfoy calmly raised an eyebrow. "She's not complaining."

It was true, she wasn't. She had relaxed when she realized why he was standing behind her.

"This is none of your business, Malfoy. Ginny, let's go back to the common room..." Harry tried to find a way out of this. He was too worried about Gin to care about Malfoy right now.

"Hm..." Malfoy seemed to think for a moment, "none of my business, eh? I believe the opposite is true. It's none of _your_ business. What do _you_ think, Red?" He cocked his head so he could look at her. "Want to get out of here?"

She looked directly into Ron's eyes as she said, "More than anything."

Malfoy didn't remove his hand from her shoulder until they were well away from the castle. "Want to tell me what that was about?" he finally asked her.

She almost laughed. "You don't know?" she asked a bit sarcastically.

He stopped, grabbed her wrist, and pushed her sleeve up. His eyes never left hers, though. Without looking down at her arm, he asked, "Why?"

She raised her eyebrows. Reaching up with her free hand, she slid the sleeve of his left arm up, exposing his own cuts and scars. Keeping her eyes locked with his, she asked, "Want to tell me?"

"Live at Malfoy Manor for one day," he answered emotionlessly.

"Have Tom Riddle in your head for the same," her tone matched his.

"Fair enough," his tone was suddenly light and he released her wrist. Breaking their intense stare, he started walking again.

Matching his stride, she asked, "You understand, so what? Why help?"

"Because _you_ understand." He stopped and found her eyes again. "I'm a disgrace among Slytherin, to my father. I'm weak. I feel pain." His voice was hard and cold, anything but weak. "You know what's it like to _be_ something you can't escape, to have something in you, killing you from the inside out, that can only be eased by bleeding."

She searched his eyes for a moment longer before breaking contact and continueing their walk.

They walked for hours. They walked until they had to use their wands to light their way. They walked aimlessly. Hardly a word was said. Eventually she grew tired and they laid down under the stars. They didn't return to the school until one a.m.

There was no good night. There were no parting words at all. They simply returned to their dorms. They understood.

* * *

A/N: this is a random piece that came to mind. can't decide whether it's a one-shot or not, though. that's why i posted it even though i already have two stories currently posted.  



	2. Crying

A/N: all of my reviews asked for this to be made into a story, so it shall be, here you go, chapter two.

* * *

A week or two later Ginny declined a trip to Hogsmeade and stayed at the castle instead. Ron hadn't been talking to her, at all, since she had left the Great Hall with Malfoy, even though she hadn't spoken to Malfoy since either.

She was sitting in the third floor girls toilet. Myrtle was annoying, sure, but someone was in the Room of Requirement and this was the only place she could bleed in peace.

Well, she thought she could bleed in peace. She had a pattern, she would make three slices. The steel of the blade was so cool, it felt so good, so refreshing. The blood was so hot, almost searing as it brought release. She had only made one cut when someone stormed into the toilet and grabbed the wrist of her right hand, the one with the blade. Before she could even think the blade was gone.

She jumped to feet and screamed. "WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE!"

There stood Malfoy, glaring at her angrily. "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!"

She yanked her wrist out of his grasp and backed away, shaking her head in disbelief, tears spilling out of her eyes. "I thought you understood. I thought...I thought...Stay away from me." She moved to leave.

She heard the sound of the blade hitting the floor and the next thing she knew she was walking into his chest. She looked up him and the force of her gaze made him close his eyes. There was so much anger, so much pain, such a sense of betrayal...

He forced himself to open his eyes and return the gaze. She took a stumbling step backwards. There was something in his eyes that shouldn't be there, concern.

"I _do_ understand," his tone was short, clipped, but not cold. It sounded like he found speaking difficult. "And that means I understand why you have to stop."

She shook her head again. No, no, he couldn't be doing this to her. Wait...she reached up and grabbed his sleeve, pulling so hard it ripped at the seem. There were fresh cuts on his skin.

He averted his eyes again.

"YOU..." she started, but he grabbed her hand that was still slightly raised and put it on his shoulder, forcing her to feel the scabs.

"And how does that make you feel?" his voice was husky and sounded far away, "If I was sitting in the corner with a blade, would you let me continue?" He found her eyes again.

She tried to pull her hand away, but he held it there. His eyes were scaring her. They looked too much like her own when she looked in a mirror. She swore they were growing moist as he watched her. It was her turn to break their gaze. "No. I couldn't."

He finally dropped her hand. As soon as she couldn't feel him anymore she just crumpled. It was as though her body just refused to hold her up. He caught her just before she hit the floor and pulled her to him. He sat there with her in his lap and let her cry. She knew she was crying for both of them.


	3. Asking

"So what do we do now?" Ginny asked after she had stopped crying. Malfoy was still holding her close.

"Hm," he sighed in thought. "I don't know."

"Why do you do it?" she asked timidly.

"The less 'pure blood' I have in my veins the better I feel." He shrugged. "I hate my father. I hate what he stands for. I hate the world that lets him roam free. I hate being his son. I hate having his name. I hate the people that won't let me be anyone else." He sounded tired.

"So, are you cruel to everyone because that's what they expect and there's no reason to disappoint or are you cruel because you resent the expectations?"

"What's the difference?"

"The first indicates a self-satisfaction with a healthy dose of cynicism. You know who you are so who cares if they do? The second indicates bitterness. You let them hurt; you've let their mistakes taint _your_ heart," she explained.

He looked at the top of her head for a moment. He was slightly surprised by the way that she looked at things, analyzed them. After a moment he shrugged again. "It depends on my mood, I guess. One day it's this the next it's that." He settled a little against the wall, shifting her a bit on his lap but not removing her. He was now sitting with his back against the wall and his legs stretched out in front of him. She was sitting sideways on his lap leaning against his chest with her legs bent, ankles resting on his knees.

"What about you, why do you do it?" he asked.

"To bleed Tom out of my soul," was her matter of fact answer.

He tightened his arms around her. "I'm sorry."

"It isn't your fault."

"No, but it is my father's."

"You aren't your father."

"Tell that to your brother," the bitterness was thick in his voice.

"I can't tell him anything," regret and pain was thick in hers.

"You said you still have him in your head?" Malfoy was referring to Tom.

"Yeah. I don't know. I guess he spent so much time in me, and then…when he almost stole my life as his own…when it was returned to me…I don't know. I just know that there is a running commentary on life in my head that wasn't there before, that's dark and disturbing. Sometimes I can't tell what's from him and what's really me." He felt her shrink against him.

"You've never talked to anyone about what really happened, have you?" He rested his head on the top of hers.

She sighed deeply. "We wouldn't be here if I had, would we?"

"I don't know. I'm glad we are though. It's completely selfish and actually quite horrible if you think about it, but I'm glad I'm not alone anymore."

"Me too."

They sat like that for a little while longer.

"So what do we do now?" she asked again.

"I don't know."


	4. Talking

After a while his legs started going to sleep so she shifted off of his lap and sat beside him, using his shoulder as a headrest.

"You know," she said after a while, "I realize they've given you no reason to disappoint them, but isn't living up to their expectations letting them win?"

"What do you mean?" he asked a bit stiffly.

"Well, it's just that if you behave cruelly because that's how they think you should and will behave, you're letting them make you something you are not. You are letting them determine who you will be."

"So you're saying I should be nice to them?" his voice held disbelief and disgust.

"No! I'm not saying you _should_ be anything. I'm just saying that you would probably find life easier if you would ignore them entirely and be who you want to be. Cruel, indifferent, kind, whatever. It just sounds like you're letting _them_ make that decision for you." She felt him shift beneath her.

He let out a sigh. "I've never really cared one way or the other. Never saw the point of _wanting_ to be anything since the choice was never mine."

"But it _is_ yours. Who cares what your father thinks? Who cares what my brother thinks? Follow your father and half the world will want you dead. Follow Dumbledore and the other half will. I say screw them all and follow yourself. Let them think what they want." She shrugged. "If they're working toward the same end you are, they might come in handy. If they aren't, well, find a way around them. They're always going to come to their own conclusion about you, and, believe it or not, sometimes that can be used to your advantage."

He didn't say anything at first. "So, is this attitude of yours what landed you here?" He regretted the question as soon as he asked it. She was here for completely different reasons than he was and he knew that.

She pulled away from him and stood up. "No. That _attitude_ of mine is what has kept me from going further, from running away from this place, from my family, from life." The pain in her voice broke his heart again.

He stood and put his hands on her shoulders. Speaking softly, he said, "I'm sorry, Gin. I shouldn't've said that. I knew better. I'm sorry."

She turned around. "I know. It's just that…at first, after…all of it happened, they told me it wasn't my fault. They told me everything was okay. They told me a lot of things and they expected me to go back to who I was. No one thought for a moment that he might have left his mark on my soul forever. No one considered that I might be a little different, a little darker, that I might have grown up a lot more than I should have that year. No one understood that I _wasn't_ innocent anymore.

"They all still expect me to be sunny cheery happy Ginny. They all still expect me to dance and play and be the innocent little girl. They all expect me to be the opposite of what they expect of you. For a while I did the same thing you do; I was what they wanted because that's what they wanted, because they wouldn't believe the truth and if they did it would only scare them. It took me over a year to figure out who I was and who I wanted to be. I still let them think I'm that little girl, for the most part, but not for the same reasons. I say the things I say and do the things I do because _I_ want to. I don't correct them because there is no point. When they see something they don't expect or don't like sometimes I explain, if their reaction is inconvenient or too annoying, but mostly I just shrug it off and leave them to think what they want.

"It hurts that my family doesn't know me. It hurts that they don't even try to. It hurts that I can't shove it in their face and make them see, but I can't because I still love them and doing that would only hurt them," there were tears in her eyes. "I've made my decision. I've decided what's important to me. Living up to my own ideals is first. Protecting my family is second. Being seen and appreciated for who I am…I don't even know if that's on the list anymore." Her voice dropped so low he wasn't sure he heard correctly, but it sounded like she added, "I'm not even sure it's possible."

Her voice regained its strength and she ended her speech with, "I'm still _here_ because I still have a hard time separating what _I _want and what _he_ wants, nothing else."

He ran his fingers through his hair. "Well, that makes me feel like a child."

She got a really concerned and apologetic look on her face. She opened her mouth to say something, but he interrupted her.

"No! Don't apologize. I know you didn't mean to make me feel that way, but I do. You dealt with everything I'm going through when you were 12. I'm sixteen and still can't deal with it on my own." He leaned up against the sinks and lowered his head.

"Stop it!" she scolded him. "Having everyone expect you to be _good_ is one thing. Having everyone expect you to be _evil_ is another. I grew up with in a very loving home where I was taken care of and wanted. I can't imagine what it would be like to grow as nothing other than an heir, someone to carry on the family name and uphold the family honour. I can't _imagine_ having _your_ father. I did _not_ go through what you are going through when I was 12. There are similarities, sure, but that doesn't mean it was just as hard."

He looked surprised at the energy with which she spoke. "Are you mad at me?"

"For calling yourself a child, yes! I don't care how long ago you should have dealt with this, but beating yourself up about it now isn't going to do you any good. Learn from your past, don't let it make the future any harder than it already has."

He nodded slowly. She sighed and leaned up against the sink next to him, but as soon as she did so, she stood up, walked around him, and leaned against the sink on the _other_ side of him.

He looked at her curiously.

"What?" she asked self-consciously.

"Why'd you move?"

She looked a little guilty. "Um, well, I don't really like that sink." He looked at her questioningly again. "It kind of moves, disappears and exposes a rather large tunnel behind it."

His eyebrows shot up. "That's…"

She nodded. He looked over at the sink next to him thoughtfully. "Hm. Never woulda guessed."

After a few moments of staring at the sink, he spoke, startling Ginny out of her own reverie. "I'll make a deal with you."

"What kind of deal?" she asked encouragingly.

He turned to face her. "I'll figure out who I am, who _I _want to be if you'll be here to keep me sane."

She smiled. "I guess we figured out what we do now."

He nodded solemnly. As a rule, he had avoided self-exploration over the years. Now he was going to dive in head first.


	5. Eating

It wasn't long before Ginny's stomach rumbled and they decided it was time to go to dinner. They were halfway to the Great Hall when Ginny stopped.

When Draco turned to face her, she said, "Um, house tables…"

His look of curiosity turned to a frown. "I hadn't thought of that. I guess we don't have to eat together." He didn't look like he enjoyed the prospect.

Ginny didn't either. She didn't mind eating with her house mates, but she didn't have any _real_ friends among them, and she knew he didn't have any friends at the Slytherin table. She thought for a moment. "You know, I'm not sure how you'd feel about it, but the teachers table is set up on a dais and, well, I wouldn't mind eating on the steps over in one of the corners." When she saw the look on his face, she added, "Or we could grab something from the kitchens and eat anywhere we want."

He thought for a moment. Closing his eyes, he made his decision, "Screw them all, right?" He opened his eyes, "Let's eat on the steps. Everyone will figure out we don't hate each other eventually so there's no point in avoiding it." He shrugged.

She looked worried about something.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Draco…you do realize that everyone will skip 'friends,' right? They'll assume something quite a bit more." She spoke softly and as though she was afraid of his reaction.

He clenched his jaw. "I know," he said slowly. "Look," his countenance changed and he seemed determined about something, "the only reaction I'm actually _worried_ about is Lucius' and his will be murder no matter how far I turn against him. Since I have no intention of becoming a death eater, I suppose it doesn't really matter what he hears, as long as _you_ understand that by associating with _me_ you increase the threat to your own life."

She smiled a little and cocked her head with a shrug. "He wants me dead anyway, so, like you said, who cares how _bad_ he wants it?"

He looked relieved. "So, you ready to go start up the rumour mill?" He offered her his arm.

She grinned mischievously as she took it, "You have no idea."

She had dropped his arm before the reached the Great Hall due to the rather unnatural feel walking like that produces, but the absence of such a connection in no way lessened the impact of their entrance. As they walked through the doors, talking and smiling, every head turned their way and silenced filled the hall.

They paused in their conversation and surveyed their fellow students, looked at each other, shrugged, and went to their respective tables. Most of the hall eagerly turned back to their friends to talk about what had just happened, but their housemates with whom they usually ate continued to stare. They had not taken seats, but rather were preparing plates while still standing.

Ron was so red Ginny was surprised he hadn't burst a blood vessel and Harry was so white he looked like he should faint. Hermione just looked confused. Everyone was too surprised to say anything as she took her plate and a glass of pumpkin juice and headed for the steps.

Malfoy's classmates were trying to ask questions or talk him out of whatever it was he was doing. He ignored them all and joined Ginny.

About fifteen minutes later, Ron recovered the power of thought, or at least muscle movement. He got up and stormed over to his sister. Grabbing her wrist, he struggled to say "Come on, we need to talk."

She looked at his hand on her wrist and up at his face. "I don't think so. I'm not done eating yet. We can 'talk' later, although I'm sure it will be more like you yelling at me than a two-way conversation. Right now, though, I'd appreciate it if you let go of my wrist, I think you're starting to bruise it." Her words were perfectly calm, but her eyes were flashing dangerously.

Draco had been watching Ron's face placidly, but at her last statement he sought her eyes. When she refused to take her eyes off her brother's, he looked down at her hand. Ron's knuckles were white he was gripping her wrist so hard. Draco's hand shot out on its own accord and grabbed Ron's wrist in a similar manner. Squeezing as hard as he could, till his knuckles were white, he looked up and found Ron looking at him. He growled, "How does it feel?"

Ron immediately released Ginny's wrist and Draco released his. Both Weasley's started rubbing their bruised flesh. Ron looked back at his sister and bit out, "We'll talk later!" and stalked off.

Draco turned to Ginny and asked, "Are you all right?"

She was watching her brother walk away, still rubbing her wrist. "Yeah, I'll be all right."

He gently reached for her arm so he could examine the already appearing bruises. Taking his wand, he touched its tip to the bruises, healing them.

She finally turned to look at him, "Thanks."

He looked at her softly, "Are you sure about this? I mean, I don't care if I lose my father, I'll be glad about it, but your family means a lot to you."

She smiled weakly. "I'm sure. I'll deal with them."

He nodded.

They continued their meal, eating in silence for a while. By the time they were done, she was relating stories about the twins and they were laughing as they left the hall, gaining them even more shocked stares.


	6. Arguing

Ginny took her time walking back to Gryffindor tower. She wasn't looking forward to her brother's reaction to everything that had happened. It would have been bad enough if she had just been eating with Malfoy. Now she had to deal with Malfoy defending her as well.

As soon as she stepped through the portrait hole, she was bombarded by questions, accusations, and demands. Trying to remain calm, she brought her hands up, placed them on Ron's shoulders, and shoved him, hard. Yes, that was her trying to remain calm. The questions stopped.

Ron just stared at her blankly from the floor where he had fallen, completely oblivious to the hand Harry was holding out to him. Of course, if he had taken the hand, he probably would have pulled Harry _down_ because the other boy was just as shocked. Hermione looked furious.

Ginny didn't give them the opportunity to recover. She decided preemptive action was in order. "SHUT UP!" She yelled. "You're worried about me? FINE! But the way to learn what I'm thinking is _NOT_ to yell at me and _demand_ ANYTHING! You understand?"

By now Ron had scrambled to his feet and looked like he had no idea what to say or do but was a microsecond from starting in on her again. Harry was staring helplessly. Hermione still looked furious.

Ginny continued. "What was I doing with Malfoy?" A lot of anger she had been holding back for some time was boiling to the surface. "I was _eating!_" She pulled up the sleeve covering her left arm. "Do you see a dark mark here?" Her voice was dark and bitter. "You wanted to know where these cuts come from? They come from _me._" She took no satisfaction out of they're horrified reactions. "There would be _more_ if _Draco _hadn't stepped in and STOPPED me!" Her eyes were hard and the others were slightly frightened. "What was I doing with Malfoy? _HE_ understood! _HE_ understands!" She was almost shaking with emotion. Holding up her wrist, she finished with, "Pull something like that again and I'll let _him_ 'talk' to you."

Well, so much for just talking to them. She hadn't meant to go off on them, she really hadn't. She had intended to talk to them calmly and try to explain things. Oh well. They deserved it. She didn't really want to wait around for them to recover their voices so stormed up to her room.

About fifteen minutes later Hermione entered and sat down on her bed. She tried to just ignore the girl, but Hermione just wouldn't get the point and leave. Groaning, she put down the homework she was working on and looked up impatiently.

"Look, Gin…" Hermione really wasn't sure what to say or how to say it. "If you had come to us…"

"You would have understood?" Ginny looked rather incredulous. "No offense, Hermione, but do you understand now?"

Hermione looked a little sheepish. "Well, no, I guess I really don't. I want to, though. We all want to. If you would just…"

"No." Ginny interrupted again. "It doesn't matter what I say, you just won't get it! The fact that you let Ron humiliate me in front of everyone, demanding to know how I got these… The fact that you let him do it _again_ tonight… The fact that you were right there with him as he _assaulted_ me downstairs… No, Hermione, you all have a lot _more_ to understand before you could ever understand this," she indicated her arm, "all things Draco already gets."

She rolled her eyes as Hermione made an expression somewhere between complete confusion, disgust, and anger. To her credit, she tried to contain and control it, and Ginny was grateful for that at least. "Look, he isn't evil, not even close. The _last_ thing you have to worry about is _me_ becoming a death eater. I have just as much reason to HATE Tom as anyone, don't you think?" She returned to her homework. "And THAT is what you and the boys will have to be satisfied with, because I'm sick of being treated like a porcelain doll." Her tone clearly indicated that the conversation was over.

Hermione really didn't know what to say and so she reluctantly got up and left.

The next morning at breakfast, Ginny and Draco chose to eat on the dais again. Her brother didn't even look at her. She sighed and turned back to her meal. Draco looked at her carefully. "You all right? What happened last night?"

"I'm fine. I'm not really _sure_ what happened last night. I just sort of went off on them I guess. I told them that I was with you because you understood while they didn't. Later, I told Hermione that they were _incapable_ of understanding _this_," she indicated her arm, "until they understood a great deal more that they didn't even realize they were missing and you understood it all." She shrugged. "And now I'm not sure whether they are even talking to me." He continued to study her face and she took another bite. "OH! And I told him that if ever tried anything like the way he grabbed my wrist again I'd let _you_ talk to him."

Draco smirked and nodded in appreciation. He got serious again for long enough to say, "Just be sure to tell me if he does."

It was her turn to smirk. "I will."

They started spending most of their time together. It took the school a few days to adjust. Seeing Ginny with a Malfoy was certainly strange, but even more so was the change in Draco. He was not only spending his time with a blood traitor, but he had stopped behaving cruelly. He was just as cold as always, but he wasn't cruel anymore. After a matter of days, however, the talk had died down and people pretty much left them alone.

Ron had indeed stopped talking to his sister. If he could help it, he didn't even look at her. Harry wavered back and forth between the same behaviour and watching her critically. Hermione was trying to convince Ron to talk to his sister, but he wouldn't do it. He felt betrayed that she hadn't come to him with her problems. He felt betrayed that she had gone to _Malfoy_ instead.

Ginny handled it pretty well. She didn't seem to let her brother get to her. Draco still worried about, though, whenever he saw the look in her eye when she saw one of the others.


	7. Explaining

A little over a week after Draco had started spending his time with Ginny, he was cornered when he returned to his common room. Blaise Zabini practically threw him up against a wall and hissed, "We need to talk, _now_!" Draco eyed the other boy sharply for a moment before shrugging apathetically and allowing himself to be led into an empty room.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Blaise demanded.

Draco crossed his arms and leaned up against a desk. "I'm making my own choices."

Blaise rolled his eyes and threw himself into a chair. "Bloody hell, Draco, do you want to get yourself killed?"

Draco smirked. "No, and I have no intention of allowing that to happen."

Blaise raised a weary eyebrow. "And how are you going to stop it?"

Draco shoved himself off the desk and took a chair opposite Blaise, leaning forward so that his weight leaned against his elbows on his knees, he looked at his friend earnestly. "For one, I have no intention of returning to my father's manor. Look, Blaise, I don't expect you to understand, but I'm learning to be myself, to think for myself, to act based on what _I_ believe rather than what my _father_ demands. Gin is helping me." He rolled up the short sleeve of his t-shirt. "She understands this, Blaise, she's been there. I haven't picked up a blade since I saw her arm. I haven't even had to fight the urge. She gives me someone to protect, someone to worry about. I feel needed for the first time of my life. I feel _wanted_ for the first time in my life. I don't want to die, Blaise, but I would rather live like this for a month and end violently than live a hundred years as I was and die peacefully."

Blaise looked his friend in the eye for a long while. Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, he leaned back. "Merlin, Draco…"

Draco sat back as well, rolling his sleeve back down. "I know."

Blaise shook his head in resignation. "Merlin knows I've wanted you to find _life_ in this world, mate. I just never thought you would do so by walking away."

Draco started to speak but Blaise interrupted him.

"No, man, I won't stand in your way. Hell, I'll even help keep the others off your back. Just…stay alive. You're my best friend, my brother, and I'd hate to be your pall bearer." He stood and left the room. When he reached the door, he looked back. He sighed. "I hope she _stays_ good for you."

Draco stayed where he was for some time. He hadn't exactly expected Blaise to understand, he hadn't dared to hope Blaise would follow wherever it was he was going, but he couldn't help but feel disappointed by what felt like the loss of the only friend he had had growing up. He wanted to get Blaise out of the shadow of death eaters, pull him out of the darkness he was still in the process of leaving himself, but he didn't know how. He had no idea what he could say to the man. After all, he couldn't really _define_ his own ideals yet, so how could convince someone else he was right?

The next day Ginny could tell something was wrong. It took all day, but Draco finally told her about his confrontation with Blaise.

She laid a comforting hand on his. "It'll be all right, Draco, just wait. Give yourself some time to figure things out and then you can talk to him again. From you've said he can see a real change in you, for the better, and if you continue to grow, continue to strengthen your convictions, he'll see it. Don't mourn his loss yet, not before he's really left."

He looked up at the redhead. "Thanks."

She shrugged. "I haven't done anything for you that you haven't done for me."

"Maybe not, but it's still more than anyone else has ever done."

She smiled. "I know the feeling."

He looked at her for a moment with nothing but gratitude. Shaking his head, he grew serious again, "You're brother hasn't given you anymore trouble, has he? You seemed a bit down this morning at breakfast as well."

She sighed. "No, not really. It's just…his glares are starting to make me want to flood his face with bat bogeys and I don't really like thinking about my brother like that."

Draco tried not to smirk.

She hit him on the arm playfully.

"What?" he asked defensively, though he was smiling. "I was just remembering how much those hurt and envisioning his…"

"I know what you were thinking!" She hit him again.

He laughed.

While they were open and relaxed with each other, almost everyone else saw them as dark, reserved, and a bit disturbing. It wasn't really their fault, they just didn't really like being stared at everywhere they went, and so, being of similar personalities that were both given to sarcastic wit and biting humours, they met the world with a rather cold consideration and caustic commentary.

Those who really knew him saw a change deep in Draco's eyes that spoke of life where once only death dwelt. To the rest he became more frightening than ever as he ceased to associate with almost everyone aside from the Weasley girl.

Those who really knew here saw a change deep in Ginevra's eyes that spoke of strength where she was once filled with fear and pain. To everyone else, she seemed to grow dark as she pulled back and befriended Malfoy.

The truth behind the changes in both was honesty. They were finally behaving the way _they_ wished rather than the way they were expected to.

Professor Dumbledore watched them transform. He couldn't stop the shivers from running up his spine when he saw them together. He had a feeling that they would have a greater impact on the world than anyone dreamed. He prayed that it was positive. He prayed they survived. He prayed that they would not forfeit themselves to their bitterness.

Professor Snape also watched the transformation. He couldn't hide the smirk that crossed his features when he saw them together. He too believed they would change the world. He prayed he would be there to see it. He knew it would be positive. He prayed they would have a place when it was all over.

Blaise watched his friend's transformation. It confused him. He decided to wait, to observe, and to reserve judgement on the _nature_ of the change until it was completed.


	8. Deciding

Gin was fuming. They had spent the winter hols at Order headquarters and she had been completely kept in the dark, again. Her brother had refused to tell her anything, even less than her mother let slip. She was tired of being treated like a child. She was tired of being treated like she had nothing to contribute, worse, like a china doll that needed to be protected.

She sat in alone in a compartment, desperate to be away from those that were currently annoying her worse than ever before. That's where Draco found her. He slid in, saw her face, and sat opposite her with a concerned expression.

"Gin?" he asked to get her attention.

She sighed. "Hi." Her tone was dark and distant.

He sat back and prepared himself for whatever it was to come. "What happened?"

She looked at him. "Do you want to fight?"

He studied her carefully. "What do you mean?" He really wasn't sure. Was she warning him not to press the issue?

"In the war, do you want to fight? Do you hate the darkness so much that you want to do something to stop it?"

Her gaze was so intense that he sat up. He still was not sure where she was going, but her question excited within him a fire that had been smoldering his entire life and he matched the intensity in her eyes. When he spoke, his tone was hard and very serious. "You know I do. I just don't…"

She waved off the rest of his comment, "Don't know if you trust the Order, yeah, sure." He frowned at the way she had dismissed his words, but do the rarity with which she did something like that, he found himself even more intrigued with where she was taking this. She continued with a tone that matched his, but her words completely shocked him, "and I'm not sure I trust their methods. The point is," she left him no room to react, "that I'm sick of being left out because I'm the youngest and the only one they can get away with protecting because they _can't_. Keeping me in the dark about what is happening around the world will only place me in _more_ danger, but they can't see that." She turned her gaze to the window. "I've just been thinking, that's all." Her last words were said a little wistfully.

He sat back again. Now he _really_ didn't know what to think. He knew what he _wanted_ to think, but he wasn't sure he dared. "And what is it, exactly, that you have been thinking?"

She sighed again. "I'm not really sure. I just…I'm just not sure…" she turned to face him and when she continued he knew she had amended her statement, "that if I were Neville I would feel safe, or satisfied, if the Lestrange's were _merely_ returned to Azkaban." There was something in her eyes he had never seen before, and as much as it thrilled him, it slightly scared him as well.

He swallowed.

She changed her position so that she was more directly facing him and her expression changed, it became less distant, softer, more open. "It isn't out of vengeance…" she shifted once again. "It's… Death Eaters will not hesitate to use Unforgivables on the battle field. Their _first_ strike will be to kill. It seems foolish, suicidal, to _avoid_ killing them at all costs. If killing is our _last_ resort, we will lose more good men and women than the world can afford, even _if_ we manage to win." She sat back heavily, "Not to mention how it will effect people to know that somewhere out there the one responsible for the death or tortured insanity of a loved one is still alive, being fed well and allowed to exercise if they behave themselves."

Her eyes returned to the window. His eyes continued to study her. After a moment, he spoke. "I want him dead too." His voice was quiet and understanding, but still filled with a great deal of emotion.

She looked at him with a weak smile.

He sat back again and relaxed. With a very nonchalant air, he asked, "So, what do we do with all of that?"

She rolled her eyes. "I have no idea." They lapsed back into silence.

A while later, Draco mused allowed, more to himself than to Gin, "If we trained…it isn't like we _have_ to _join_ anyone in order to join the _war…_"

She smirked. "Why Malfoy, would you be suggesting vigilantism?"

He mimicked her smirk and shrugged innocently. The irony made her laugh. "I'm just saying, we're pretty strong individuals and I have a feeling that, if we put our minds to it, we could come up with a pretty reliable way of figuring out what is going on. Besides, aren't the _good guys_ the ones who keep saying that someone is _obligated_ to that which they believe is right? We would be failing our world if we did anything less."

She shook her head in amusement. "It may have been said with an attitude of defiance, but that doesn't make it any less true."

He chuckled.

She studied him for a moment. "So, are we really going to do this?"

He got serious again. "I aim to."

She nodded. "I can't let you do it alone. Besides, like you said, I'm obligated."

The talked for a little while, throwing ideas back and forth about what they were getting themselves into. They talked about how they would go about getting information on the activities of both sides and came up with a few ideas, but nothing that seemed too promising yet. They talked about how they would need to train as well, discussing the curses and hexes they would need to know and how they could go about practicing them.

Suddenly Gin seemed to get an idea. "Listen, We're going to practice curses and hexes and dueling, of course, but it would be to our advantage to know something no one else does."

He looked at her warily but waited for her to explain.

"Muggles have come up with some pretty amazing ways to compensate for their lack of magic, and because of those compensations they have been able to invent devices that achieve things we have never dreamed of. Knowledge of their methods could be useful. Using a muggle weapon in war would not only be effective it would be confusing and terrifying in its unfamiliarity." She waited for his reaction.

"Go on," was all he said.

She sat up straighter and did as she was told, developing her idea as she went along. "One, sword fighting is as much about grace, coordination, balance, flexibility, concentration, and discipline as it is about combat, all of those principles will come in handy regardless of weapon choice. Two, archery is silent but deadly. Imagine the confusion and fear you would feel if someone in your midst dropped dead with an arrow sticking out of his back. The very archaic nature of these weapons adds a dramatic flare to battle and inspires a very interesting emotional response. We will train in magical curses and hexes just as strongly as we are in these muggle forms, but the additional styles will be to our advantage."

Again, she waited. He just looked at her for a moment. Slowly a smirk spread onto his face. "I like it."


End file.
